Moving In
by MondayGirl
Summary: Tony has decided to reach out to his team members in the wake of the chitauri attack. The tower may still be under repair but Maria Starks New York mansion is intact and has plenty of spare bedrooms. Clint isnt too sure about this living together as a team business.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I own nothing, obviously. For those reading my other stories they're haven't been abandoned I Just had this on my computer and thought i might as well post it.

This takes place in the same verse as my Batman/Avengers crossover althought no Batmna in this one. Clint is younger than portrayed in the film (about 20) and is a mix of comics Clint, movie Clint and my head cannons. Constructive cristicism is welcome.

Moving In

Tony was a man on a mission. He strode through the helicarrier with his best 'I am allowed to be here' face on. He peered down halls and into rooms until he found what he was looking for. Ok so maybe he hadn't just found it by himself, maybe he had had to ask a couple of people where the agent's barracks were. But, whatever he had found them now. The long hall which had been behind a door marked 'junior agents, male' with a key card accessed lock system which he was able to override was lined with doors all bearing a name plaque. Or rather a slot with a card inserted with the occupants name on. He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected, a frat house type of vibe maybe or at least the sounds of goofing off and video games in the air. But not this, it was sterile while still managing to look somewhat dingy in the fluorescent light given off overhead. Nothing like the parts of the carrier open to the team, officially that is. He scanned the doors for the name he was looking for and found it. It seemed strange to the billionaire that the door didn't give the occupants full name just the last and a number. He knocked hoping that the nameless agent whom he had asked where he could find Barton had been right and the kid was hiding out in his room. The door opened within seconds.

Hearing the footsteps outside his door he hadn't thought it would be anyone coming to see him so the knock at his door surprised him somewhat. He was quick to answer thinking it might be another spot check from psych to check he hadn't slit his wrists or something since they let him out of medical. He was feeling guilty and like complete shit but, seriously there were better ways to go. If he got that low he'd get himself killed in the field. When the opened door revealed not one of the docs but Tony Stark, Clint was struck dumb for a second. What the hell did Stark want? Was he lost and just saw a name he recognised on the door? "Uh, can I help you Mr. Stark?"

"Mr. stark? Please Clint call me Tony." He pushed his way past the sniper and into his room looking over everything with a critical eye. The room was about the size of a cell and completely devoid of any personality. Tony noticed the bunk beds, "they make you _share_ this hovel?" Clint nodded silently, tracking the man's movements about the small room.

"Yeah but my roommate moved out. Said it was nothing personal but he didn't feel safe sharing with me in case Loki was still running loose up here." Clint said tapping the side of his head. "Well at least I get the top bunk now. And he snored anyway." The younger man shrugged forcing a smile he didn't feel onto his face. He really just wanted to be alone. Stark continued inspecting his quarters, he even looked under the bed and stuck his head in the small closet. The nosy bastard.

Tony shook his head at the state of the room before turning to a bewildered Barton who still stood by the door. "No. This just won't do at all. Although it does make what I've come to ask a little easier." Barton made a huh noise and wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "Oh right yeah sorry. I came to ask well; uh... the tower is still under renovation after the battle, so I'm living in one of my other properties it was my mom's originally actually and."

Clint held up a hand to stop the man's rambling. "Just get to the point Stark."

"Yeah, right. So, Bruce moved in a few days ago and capsicle is moving his stuff into his room as we speak, I emailed Nat since she's off being a spy and a truck with female paraphernalia and guns pulled up outside the house this morning so... it gonna take you long to pack?"

"What?" Clint sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he was pretty sure Stark was giving him a migraine.

"Wasn't I clear? I said do you want to move in with me?"

"I'm sorry Stark, but I'm not that kind of girl. It takes at least three dates and two bottles of vodka to take me home." Clint said laughing as he leaned against the open doorway.

"You know what I meant smartass. Move in with me and the team. You're obviously not happy here and I'm pretty sure this" he waved his hand to encompass the small room "violates several human rights laws anyway. The house has got plenty of room, so no sharing. And I can offer you a free bar and TV facilities. Also no Fury." He spread his arms wide as if that should be case closed. Clint thought about the offer for less than a minute. Sure, Stark was annoying but the other guys were ok from what he'd seen and if it meant he wouldn't have to sit alone in the cafeteria like some high school reject - not that he'd know what they looked like apart from what he had seen on TV – while everyone shpt him dirty looks and whispered about him. Also he bet that Stark's kitchen would be pretty well stocked. No more meatloaf roulette.

Clint sighed as if heavily put upon. "Fine, but only coz we need to bond and shit. You better have cable, I ain't missing Dog Cops."


	2. Chapter 2

Clint sighed as he zipped up his battered duffle bag, Stark had left him barely ten minutes ago. He looked down at the bag. Was this really all his life had amounted to? Four years he'd been with SHIELD and all he had to show for it was the same crappy bag he'd come in with. Sure, it had more clothes in it than it had that day, but no personal items, no pictures or mementos. He shook his head as if that would banish the black mood creeping back over him after the initial happiness of Stark's offer. The only mansion he'd ever slept in was a dilapidated left over from Tsarist Russia which he had crashed in one night while on a mission. Before SHIELD that is, they at least sprung for a motel, usually. It had obviously once been a very grand old building before its furnishings and fixtures were torn out during the revolution, he doubted Stark's place would have that same haunted, empty feeling.

He caught the next carrier down to solid ground and tried to ignore the pilots smug smirk as he looked over his shoulder at his passenger. Most likely the dick thought Clint had been fired and was crawling away, tail between his legs back to a life of crime and vagrancy. Where he belonged. He didn't say anything, just clenched his jaw and stared out the window.

A car was waiting for him when he reached the SHIELD ground New York office. A big guy in a suit with a sign bearing his name stood ready by the door. He approached cautiously hoping when he got near Stark wouldn't leap out of the car shouting "April fools! Just joking why on earth would we let you live with two geniuses and Captain America?" He got closer and all that happened was that the big guy started to give him the evil eye when he didn't move along or say anything. Clint cleared his throat a little embarrassed for acting like such a spas. "Hey, uh that's me?" He said gesturing to the sign. The guy raised an eyebrow.

"Clint Barton?" the guy clarified, clearly thinking that perhaps Clint was just some random bum looking for a free ride in a limo. Clint dug into his pants pocket, pulling out his driver's license and practically shoving it in the big guy's face. After a quick scan of the photo the big guy nodded and opened the door gesturing for Clint to climb in the back. He spoke once he himself was in the driver's seat. "Name's Happy, I'm Mr Stark's Bodyguard and driver. "He paused to glare at Clint as if waiting for him to laugh at his designation of bodyguard to Iron Man. Clint wisely choose to keep his mouth shut and merely nodded. "He decided to fly back in the suit so it's just you back there today. There a remote to control the TV and the fridge is stocked so help yourself, don't break anything." With that and a friendly grin the big guy - Happy - put up the divider between driver and passenger. Clint lasted a full minute before raiding the onboard fridge and tearing into the massive bag of cheetos he found in the cupboard beneath bar. He grabbed a beer as well hoping it would help settle the irrational nerves he felt building up inside.

This place was pretty impressive he thought, as he gawped out the car window as they rolled through the gates and up the long driveway. It was definitely in better shape than the Russian mansion, that was for sure.

Happy showed him into the large foyer, depositing his bag - which the driver had practically wrestled off him to carry - onto the floor near the sweeping staircase. He then promptly disappeared - of course - leaving Clint standing awkwardly on the spotless rug covering the gleaming wood floor. Any second now he expected to be told to hurry up, get back to work, not steal anything and be on his way. A feeling left over from doing odd jobs with Barney and the other carnies as a kid when the circus didn't make quite enough to keep going and pay everyone at the same time. He stood there for another five minutes before realising that he was being stupid, of course he could go in properly and walk around, he was supposed to be living there, right?

A bit of exploration and Clint found himself in the kitchen. He was not alone. Stark leant against the counter glass in hand, filled with amber liquid. Rogers sat at the table reading the paper looking and Banner bent over a ratty note pad scribbling, while methodically pouring coffee down his throat. He waited to be noticed for a while until he realised that probably wouldn't happen since no one had heard him come in. The training of SHIELD ladies and gentlemen, or perhaps the training of a lifetime trying not to be noticed when he wasn't on a stage or in a brightly coloured tent with his bow in hand.

He cleared his throat, Tony jumped and almost dropped his glass. "Jesus! Ninja much? Christ you're like a fucking ghost. Sneaky fucker." Clint shrugged and smirked a little, the agents he lived and worked with no longer had those kinds of reaction when he took them by surprise. Banner and Rogers showed no such surprise but they did both look up from what they were doing to greet him. After the initial pleasantries there was an awkward lull in the conversation Clint felt like the three older men were staring at him expectantly. Probably waiting for him to begin acting like a normal person and say something other than "Hi" and "thanks for having me". He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything Stark saved him from the inevitable embarrassment by offering to show him to his room.

While following behind the older man Clint listened to his chattering, Stark was pointing out things they passed, gym, library, games room, living room, TV room, main bathroom (but, don't worry each bedroom has its own bathroom so you won't have to share). As if after living in SHIELD barracks sharing a bathroom with four other people would bother him. He snapped out of his thoughts when he realised Stark was now talking to him rather than at him. "Huh?" he grunted eloquent as ever. Stark narrowed his eyes for a second before continuing obviously perturbed that someone wasn't hanging on his every word.

"I said, are you picking up the rest of your stuff tomorrow?" Clint felt his hand tighten on the ragged strap of his bag. He was eighty percent sure that Stark wasn't making fun of him but he still felt his defenses rise. Instead of punching him or giving another inappropriately angry response (which was a term the SHIELD psych team just loved to throw around) he settled for grunting and muttering. "This is all my stuff, I travel light." Stark raised an eyebrow.

"Huh I thought you'd have like a million different bows and arrows, which reminds me downstairs I've set up a range for you, its separate from the gun range, arrows only so you can go nuts. Oh , yeah and I've got a prototype bow for you to try and some cool arrows I've been working on". He left it at that after Clint thanked him again and promised he would try them out. Clint was glad of his offer of the bow and arrows, he had had to leave his own in the SHIELD weapon lock up since people on psych watch weren't allowed to keep weapons in their room or train with them on SHIELD property without supervision (at least he assumed it was only SHIELD property, he wouldn't say anything just in case) and he was in no mood to explain this to anyone especially someone like Stark. After climbing two floors and walking down a seemingly never ending hallway Stark stopped at a door and turned flashing Clint a smile before waving him through the door. "So I didn't really know what kind of decor you'd like, so I just left it as it is. But, you can change whatever you want, just give me the bill and let me know if you make any structural changes." Clint muttered his thanks and once Stark was gone, tossed his bag in a corner and lay face down on the bed. He felt so tired, he always seemed to feel tired recently. Since Loki, Since Phil. He used to be able to go days without sleep and still feel ready to take on whatever was thrown at him. But now, he just wanted to sleep, or rather he just wanted to lay in bed actual sleep hadn't been that restful since his brain recalibration.

Rolling over to stare at the ceiling he pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. He'd put it on silence when he had been trying to dodge his therapist (if he couldn't hear his phone ringing he wasn't ignoring the guy right?) five missed calls, two from doctor Treadman, one from Bobbi and two from Kate. Ten texts, he read them through slitted eyes.

KATE Hey Hawkeye, take me to the range? I might even let you buy me a burger after I beat you. :p x

JESS Hey Clint, not heard from you in a while. Drinks?

KATE C'mon Barton I know all you're doing is lying on your bunk in your Green Arrow pjs's masturbating over Katniss and feeling sorry for yourself. Pick the damn phone or text me back. x

BOBBI Clint I called but I guess you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Take a pill, grow a pair and come out with me and the guys. If anyone bothers you I'll kick their ass.

KATE Seriously, I need some Hawkeye on Hawkeye time (yeah yeah I know how that sounds) I need my wing man dude. Take a shower, get dressed, eat something other than cheetos and pop tarts. Text me or I'm breaking into the hellicarrier again.

JESS Sorry Clint have to pass on the drinks. Got a mission. Talk when I'm back.

KATE Asshole. I won't be ignored. Maybe I'll change my codename and find a new crime fighting buddy :(

KATE Not really but you better text me back. OR. ELSE. I don't know what but you'll be sorry. Maybe I'll send Tommy to bug you until you give in, or tell Billy you feel sexually confused and need someone to talk to. I'll do it, don't think I won't.

DARCY Hey Hawkguy, been fielding calls from some angry pre teen. Are we gonna have a father with a shotgun banging down the base door? u her baby daddy? Please say no the paper work will kill me and then I'd have to kill you. Also psych's been on my case, I told them I'm just the handler's assistant but, do they listen? No and apparently neither do you. Call them agent or I'll tell them you wet the bed and suck your thumb. Sort yourself out dude I need you on my team when bowling league time comes around. xx

BOBBIE Where are you? I came by your quarters and you were gone, that pilot with the neck beard is telling everyone you quit and were crying on the shuttle to ground base? CALL ME.

Clint sighed as he sat up and made a call to the psych department, luckily he got the message service. "This is Agent Barton, I'm just calling to check in. I'm fine and me and my dream diary will be at our scheduled meeting on Thursday." There he sounded sane enough. That reminded him though, he needed to make up some dreams to put in the damn diary.

The next call he made was to Bobbie. "Hey babe, yeah I know sorry. Sorry, ok, I know. Yes I've been going, no! I was not crying, he's a dick I just moved out, was sick of the whispering. Yeah I said moved out, with friends. No not with Kate! I have other friends Bobbie Christ! No not Natasha either, well she's gonna be here too but...Yeah its Stark, yeah he's here, yeah and the Captain. Yeah I guess that is pretty cool. Yeah I do still have it, no I'm not asking him to sign it, I'm not Phil. Yeah ok, I will, I know, _I know._ Ok bye, yeah bye, yeah you too see ya." Ex-girlfriends, can't be in a relationship with them, can't work at a super secret government agency without them also working there, can't put an arrow through their heart. He decided to forgo calling Kate (he did not need that kind of headache right now) and instead just texted her.

Clint Hey Hawkeye, Sorry I left my phone in my other pity party pants. I've moved, I'll send you the address after this. Come over tomorrow after school and I'll show you the range here, it's all mine which is pretty awesome. See you tomorrow Katie and don't bring any of your nerd buddies when you find out where I'm living now.

Hey put his phone back in his pocket then thought better of it, he didn't want Kate to think he was being a dick and insulting her friends, they were ok kids. Even though they were mostly massive nerds.

Clint LOL x

Again he went to put it away then stopped.

CLINT Sorry that was lame.

It was hard being friends with/mentoring a teenage girl. Especially knowing that if she knew he thought that she would probably punch him in the face.

KATE You're such a dork. See u tomorrow x


End file.
